


Eager Lovers

by starspangledmanwithaplan



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, The Avengers - Ambiguous Fandom
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Marvel Cinematic Universe Fusion, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Angst with a Happy Ending, Bartenders, Captain America AU, Explicit Consent, Explicit Language, Explicit Sexual Content, F/M, Female Reader, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Fluff and Smut, Fluffy Ending, Gen, Heavy Angst, M/M, Marvel Alternate Universe - Freeform, Reader-Insert, Reader-Interactive, Smoking, Steve Rogers AU - Freeform, Tattooed Bucky Barnes, Tattooed Steve Rogers, marvel AU, tattooed Clint Barton
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-17
Updated: 2018-02-17
Packaged: 2019-03-19 17:13:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 9,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13708986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/starspangledmanwithaplan/pseuds/starspangledmanwithaplan
Summary: You thought Steve was going to be a one night stand, one and done, but you found yourself drawn to him, like the proverbial moth to the flame. He was so much more than the tattooed, beer drinking, bar owner you thought he was. But somehow the headlong rush into love wasn’t turning out like you’d hoped.





	1. Brooklyn Brewery

* * *

Steve was behind the bar, mixing another strawberry daiquiri for the blonde at the other end. “A fucking daiquiri,” he grumbled. “This isn’t a damn sorority.”

“No,” Bucky snorted. “But at $9.50 a pop, it helps pay the bills.”

Rolling his eyes, Steve turned off the blender. “We didn’t open this bar to make fruity drinks for the college chicks.”

Bucky clapped his friend on the back as he grabbed the cold drink from his friend’s hand. “No, no we didn’t,” he agreed. “I got this, you take a break.”

“You sure?” Steve asked sarcastically, eyebrow arched knowingly.

“I got this,” he answered, winking as he turned toward the woman he was planning on taking home.

“I’m sure you do,” Steve chuckled to himself as he made his way out from behind the bar. Several regulars stopped Steve, chatting him up about how things were going; their days, their jobs, their lives. Some even asked how the bar was doing.

The Cock was a relatively new bar in town, having opened its doors just over a year ago. Steve, along with Bucky, and their good friend, Clint, got the idea one night after drinking too many expensive beers at Stark Craft Brewery. It hadn’t been an easy start since people were still willing to fork over almost $25 for a glass of beer. But the three men put their heads down, kept their noses clean, and in the last couple of months, they started to see the fruits of their labor.

It had been Bucky’s idea to push ‘ladies night,’ said it would bring in revenue. That’s not all it brought in. Bucky was with a new woman every night, without fail. Steve kind of envied that about his friend, his ability to have a string of one night stands without regret, without looking back and wondering ‘what if.’ Not that Steve was a saint, far from it, but he’d be lying if he hadn’t been thinking about settling down sometime soon.

Steve stood outside, smoking, leaning against the wall, one foot propped up, allowing his mind to clear as he looked up at the dark sky. He had just stubbed out his second cigarette when movement to his left caught his attention.

“Got a light?” she rasped, cigarette trapped between the right side of her mouth. “Can’t seem to find mine.”

“Sure,” he answered, pulling the red, white, and blue BIC from his pocket.

She nodded her thanks as she moved to stand exactly as he had just been. “You headed in for a drink?”

“Somethin’ like that,” he chuckled. Steve couldn’t keep his eyes from scanning over her frame, appreciating every inch. “You been here before…?”

“Y/N,” she said as she held out her hand. “I’ve walked by many times, but never gotten a chance to go in…”

With a laugh, he stated his name. “Anything in particular stopping you?”

“Drunk college kids aren’t really my kind of thing,” she answered almost brutally.

Rather than head inside, Steve pulled out another cigarette, lit it and, instead of  leaning against the wall again, dropped down to sit sideways on his bike. “It’s only like that a few nights a week.”

Y/N licked her bottom lip when he stretched his legs out, crossing them at the ankle. “You sound like you’re here every night.”

“Just about,” he admitted, staring at her legs as she was doing to him.

“You own the place, or what?” she scoffed, raking a hand through her hair.

Steve felt an itch in the palm of his hand, he wanted to touch her hair, feel the shining strands between his fingertips. “Only 33%.”

She stared at him with wide y/c eyes. “No fuckin’ way,” she mumbled. “Wow, way to impress the owner. Shit, I’m sorry, Steve.”

His laugh was rich, thick in the back of his throat. “No, it’s okay, Y/N. If I hadn’t wanted to hear the truth, I would’ve introduced myself as the owner in the first place.”

Y/N pulled in a long drag as she rolled her eyes. “Feel like an idiot.”

“You shouldn’t,” he stated firmly. “You up for a drink on the house?”

“Never been one to turn down a free drink,” she laughed, stubbing out her cigarette, and tossing it into the bucket that was partially filled with gravel. “I sure as hell won’t start tonight.”

* * *

Watching Steve behind the bar was more intoxicating than the finely-aged whiskey you were drinking. Every move he made was with purpose, he knew where he wanted to go, what he wanted to do, what liquor paired the best with whatever the patron was eating; he looked like he loved every second of it.

It seemed like every chance he got, he was in front of you, talking loud so you could hear him over the jukebox and the bustle of men behind you. Whenever your drink was running low, he was there, bottle in hand, pouring you another healthy serving.

“Are you trying to get me drunk?” you called out, pushing yourself off your seat, over the bar, and closer to his ear.

The music might have been loud, but there was no way you missed the low in his throat chuckle. “What kind of bartender would I be if I were?”

“A horny one,” you answered, shoving your arms under your breasts, putting them on display. They were covered, it wasn’t like they were going to spill out of your shirt or anything.

“Doll,” he warned, his eyes flashing dark and dangerous as he stood back.

Clearing your throat, you dropped your ass back to the stool and lifted up your glass, saluting him with it before taking a long pull. “I don’t hear you denying it,” you teased.

Steve stared at you for a beat before yelling over his shoulder, “Be right back.” He grabbed your hand as he strode past, all but yanking you from the stool.

You followed him blindly, gnawing on your bottom lip as you took in the sight of his back. His shoulders were wide, like, they both almost touched both sides the door frame at the same time, wide. Then there was his narrow waist, the shirt clinging to him tapered in, giving your imagination plenty to work with until you got your hands on him. It was a good thing you didn’t have to wait much longer.

The room he pulled you into was dimly light by a single orange bulb in the far corner. He slammed the door, threw the lock, then pinned you to the wall. Eyes so dark they looked obsidian stared hard into yours, and then he pounced; fiercely kissing you. You pulled his backwards cap off, threw it on the floor, and carded a hand through his hair, moaning obscenely when his tongue invaded your mouth.

Steve grabbed your hand and pressed it against the bulge in his jeans. “That enough confirmation for you, doll?”

Licking your kiss-swollen lips, you gave him a squeeze, relishing in the flood of warmth between your legs when he twitched heavily under your hand. “You know what they say… seeing is believing.”

His eyes just about rolled back when you started tugging open his button fly jeans. You locked your eyes with this and hooked your fingers in the top of his boxer briefs, pulling them down his thick thighs as you slowly dropped to your knees. Steve pressed his hands against the wall as he towered over you, staring down the line of his body, finding you gazing back up at him.

With your hand wrapped around the base, your mouth watered at the sight of his cock; thick shaft, even thicker head, veins pulsing, beads of pre-cum dripping onto your thumb as you stroked him. His was the most beautiful cock you had ever seen, and you couldn’t wait to taste him, to feel him inside of you.

Steve’s hips twitched. “You gonna let me fuck your mouth?” he growled. Rather than give an audible answer, you opened your mouth, flattened your tongue, and slapped his cock against it. The moan that spilled from his mouth was obscene enough to sound like it belonged in a porno, and fuck, you wanted to hear more.

You wrapped your mouth around him and started sucking, taking him deeper with every push of his hips, your fist pumping what your mouth couldn’t reach. He hit the back of your throat and you swallowed, a rush of heat exploding in your gut when you were rewarded with another one of his porn star moans. You tried to ignore your aching pussy, but the sounds Steve was making, the sounds his cock was making in your mouth… it was too much.

When Steve grabbed your hair and yanked your head back, you slid a hand into your shorts, and exposed your clit with your thumb, the pad of it brushing against the throbbing bundle of nerves. You almost came then and there, but your pussy needed to be filled. You preferred Steve’s cock, but right then, it was deep in your throat, choking you.

“Shit, Y/N,” Steve growled out above you. “I’m.. I’m gon… gonna cum. You want me to cum in your mouth, baby?”

You wanted to moan, to scream out that yes, yes you did want him to cum in your mouth, but you couldn’t. With your free hand, you cupped his high and tight balls, and started massaging them as your answer.

Steve’s bottom lip was between his teeth and he was fucking your mouth, the loud, wet, sucking sounds echoed in the room. With your thumb assaulting your clit, you drove three fingers into your pussy, matching the pace of Steve’s hips, and quickly drove yourself over the edge.

“Shit, doll,” he rasped, his hips stuttering, his cock swelling, the thick vein against your tongue beating rapidly. Your nose was buried in the ginger hairs around his cock as he came, your name was a strangled mess on his tongue. He pulled out just enough so you could breathe, so you could try and swallow every drop of him that was on your tongue, the pool on your tongue growing as you continued to pump him lazily.

The breath was tearing in and out of him as he pulled you to your feet. With his brow arched, he grabbed your wrist and yanked your hand out, licking his lips hungrily at the sight of your shining fingers. You swallowed the rest of him and watched as he sucked your fingers clean. You squeezed your legs together, desperate for friction, to be filled up so completely that you’d be seeing stars, but there was a knock at the door.

“Come on, man. It’s almost closing time,” Bucky yelled, pounding on the door, causing it to rattle in the frame.

“Gimme a minute,” hollered Steve, his eyes still drilling into yours. He bent down a moment later and pulled up his boxer briefs and jeans, tucking away his now soft cock.

Bucky mumbled something you couldn’t hear as he departed. You took the chance to straighten your clothes and run a hand through your hair, untangling the knots Steve’s hand had left.

Steve cupped your face with one hand and swept his thumb over your bottom lip before kissing you, giving you a taste of yourself. “I gotta go,” he murmured, his forehead against yours.

“Me, too,” you concurred. Reaching back, you unlocked the door and stumbled out, Steve’s mouth chasing yours. You were still heady from the not-quite-sex, and it had an effect on your balance. Giggles burst out of you as you almost fell to your ass. Steve’s arms shot out, catching you before your feet slipped out from under you. He half-carried you down the hall and into the still full bar.

The glass you had been drinking from was still there, so you quickly finished it, and tugged some cash from your back pocket. Steve tried stopping you, but you weren’t having it. You grabbed his belt loop and tugged him into you, shoving the money in his back pocket, and giving his ass a good squeeze.

You kissed him thoroughly, arching your body into his, moaning at the feel of his hands on your ass. “See you around,” you purred against his lips. Spinning in his arms, you shoved his hat on your head and sauntered out of the bar, leaving him with his mouth agape, eyes wide, desperately craving more.


	2. Horny Devil

It had been three days since Y/N strolled into his life and gave him the best head he’s ever had. If she could make him cum that intense with just her mouth, he couldn’t imagine how it would be buried to the root, her thighs wrapped around his waist, nails digging into his back, head pushed into the pillow, obscene moans falling from her mouth… fuck, he was hard just thinking about it.

Groaning, he shook his head and cracked open three bottles of beer. “That’ll be $30,” he told the frat boy in front of him. Steve nodded his thanks when two twenties were slapped into his hand.

“Good tipper,” Clint noted as he wiped down the newly vacated spot.

“Just think what would happen if he drank the good beer,” Steve chuckled, ringing up the order, and shoving the cash into the till.

Clint shoved the sleeves of his henley up his forearms, exposing his newest tattoo. “How’s the newest batch coming?”

Shrugging, Steve leaned back, giving Clint ample room to move around, grabbing a pitcher to fill, setting three glasses on a tray. “Should be ready to taste in a week,” he answered, his eyes drifting around the room, taking in the crowd, searching for her.

“Hey, you give any more thought to bringing in someone to help?” Clint questioned, his attention on the beer, making sure not to let the head of foam get too big.

“Uh, yeah,” Steve lied, scraping a hand over his face.

“Can’t lie for shit,” Clint chuckled loudly.

It was Steve’s turn to laugh. “Yeah, yeah,” he mused under his breath.

“For real, though,” Clint pushed, turning around to face his friend. “Business is really starting to pick up, not that I’m complaining. But… we need help, Steve.”

“Alright,” Steve conceded. “I get it. I’ll put up a sign right now.”

Fifteen minutes later, Steve was standing outside, smoking, and looking at the  ** _HELP WANTED_**  sign he had just taped to the inside of the door. He was leaning against his bike when she strolled up, lit cigarette between her fingers, cell phone illuminating her face.

“Hey,” he gruffed in greeting, yanking her attention from her phone.

Y/N tucked her phone away and turned toward Steve. “Hey, yourself,” she smiled, shifting almost nervously on her feet.

Steve squeezed the cherry from his cigarette, stomping it out with his boot. “How’s it going?”

“Not bad,” she hummed. “You?”

 _Fucking horny as hell._  “Been busy,” he answered, jutting out his chin toward the bar.

“You guys are hiring,” she observed casually as she peered over her shoulder.

“Yeah, we could use some help. You know anyone looking for a job?”

Gnawing on her bottom lip, Y/N stepped off the curb and stood between Steve’s legs. “I do,” was her throaty response.

Steve’s hands were on her waist, thumbs looped through belt loops, long fingers curved around her hips. “Is it someone I know?”

“You know them quite intimately,” she purred, discarding her half-smoked cigarette so she could loop her arms around his neck.

Tipping his head to the side, Steve chewed on the inside of his cheek. “How intimately you talkin’?”

Rolling her eyes, Y/N dipped her head and caught his bottom lip between hers, nipping at it just enough to make Steve hiss. She soothed it with her tongue before pushing it into his mouth, taking control of the kiss easily. Her hands were in his hair, tugging on the slightly longer strands, pushing her breasts into his chest as her back arched. Their hips rocked in tandem, not caring who was watching or listening.

“Wanna get out of here?” she panted, staring at him with lust-blown pupils.

Steve blew out a shuddering breath. “Fuck, do I want to,” he rasped. “But we’re pretty slammed tonight.”

“I could start tonight,” Y/N offered seriously.

“Yeah? That would be pretty fucking cool.”

Wearing a mischievous smirk, she asked, “And then, you can fuck me properly. Deal?”

Steve growled and dug his fingers into her hips and ass. “Deal.”

* * *

The experience of having been a waitress in high school and college came in handy as soon as you wrapped the black apron around your waist. Your muscle memory kicked in, and in less than ten minutes, you had complete control over the crowd. 90% of the patrons were men, and you knew that the more you flirted, the more they’d drink, and the more they drank, the bigger the tips.

So you flirted shamelessly, earning yourself more than a few phone numbers, a handful of proclamations of love, one marriage proposal, and more wandering hands than you could keep track of. Nothing major, just a slap to your ass here and there. Under normal circumstances, none of the behavior would be acceptable, but while working…you could handle it.

Every time you giggled too loud, or someone’s hand was on your ass, or you adjusted your boobs before diving back into the crowd, Steve glared in your direction. Never at you, but the person you were flirting with. But Steve’s jealousy didn’t stop you, rather, it spurned you on. He had promised to fuck you tonight, and the only thing better than a good fuck, was fucking out of jealousy.

Since it was just after closing time, you were about to slip outside for a smoke when Steve’s hand was on your wrist, stopping you dead in your tracks. There were no words as he pulled you across the room, his jaw twitching, his fingers bruisingly tight, and he didn’t stop until the two of you were in an office.

Just like the other night, the door was slammed shut, the lock thrown, and you were pinned to the wall before your eyes could adjust to the dark room. Steve’s hands grabbed at you, pulling you possessively into him as he kissed you. You tangled your tongue with his and pushed up to the balls of your feet, deepening the kiss even more.

Snarling into your mouth, Steve grabbed your ass and hauled you over to the desk where he broke away only long enough to spin you around and bend you over the desk.

“Steve,” you gasped.

“A deal’s a deal, sweetheart,” he announced, his voice like sandpaper. “Imma fuck you good and proper.”

Your panties were soaked at his vow, and you couldn’t keep from whining in anticipation. Steve pushed down your shorts and panties, groaning in satisfaction at the sight and smell of your pussy. While you stepped out of your clothing, Steve swiped his fingers through your slick folds, growling a moment later.

“You taste better than I remember,” he praised.

The sound of his zipper was drowned out by the rush of blood in your ears. Your entire body was thrumming, unspent electricity bubbling beneath your skin, pushing goosebumps to the surface. It was borderline pathetic how badly you wanted him to fuck you, but that didn’t mean you were going to stop whimpering, begging him to fill you with his cock.

Steve quickly rolled on a condom, and the wide head of his cock was rubbing along your slit, brushing against your aching clit. You pushed your ass back, and looked over your shoulder, locking eyes with him as he started to push in. You’d seen his cock, you knew how big it was, but sucking his cock and fucking his cock were two different things.

He went slow, giving your body plenty of time to stretch around the sheer size of him. You’d never had someone so large, and you knew, right then, that he had ruined you, in every good way imaginable. You were filled to the brim, overflowing even. You swore you could feel him in your chest, twitching heavily as he restrained himself… barely.

“Fuck,” Steve sneered, fingers digging bruises into your ass and hips. “Never had a pussy as tight as yours. Never had anyone take my cock so well.” His praise made you clench around him in appreciation.

“Please, Steve,” you begged, your body shaking with raw need. “I need you to fuck me.” And he did.

Steve fucked you with wild abandon. He drove into you repeatedly, each heavy drag of his cock faster, harder, deeper than the one before. With your hands by your hips, your knuckles went stark white with how tight you gripped the edge of the desk. Each connection of your bodies sent your hips into the edge of the desk, the bite adding a sting of pain that ate at the edges of euphoria.

The orgasm came out of nowhere, taking you by surprise, smothering the scream in your throat. It coursed through you, exploding from every atom, sparking every nerve, stealing your sight, leaving you a whimpering mess as Steve continued to bear down on you. He came with your name on his lips, sounding sinful and vulgar, and you absolutely needed to hear it every day.

After pulling out and disposing of the condom, Steve grabbed some damp paper towels from the bathroom, cleaning your legs and overstimulated pussy while you came down from the best high you’d ever have. You sighed in contentment when he kissed the back of your neck after redressing you.

“That was one hell of a job interview,” you chuckled low in your throat as you stood, running a hand through your hair. “How’d I do?”

Wearing a proud smirk, Steve settled his hands on your lower back and kissed you. “You nailed it.”

“Yes,” you celebrated, pumping your fist shallowly by your side. “Should we let Bucky and Clint know?”

“Oh, I have a feeling they know,” Steve chuckled.


	3. Two-Hearted

It was well after two in the morning, you were standing on the fire escape, wearing one of Steve’s shirts, and smoking. Every inch of you was sore, deliciously so. Your muscles were overused and abused, bruises adorning your skin in various spots. You hadn’t felt this good since… ever. Not even when you were with Baron. He had only ever been in it for his satisfaction, never caring if you got off. You lost count of the amount of times he had rolled away, disappearing into the bathroom, leaving you to finish the job he only half-assed started.

The two of you had dated for two years, were engaged for six months, and had just started planning the wedding when you found out he had been having an affair the entire time. Baron, with his old family money, wasn’t a man anyone ever said no to. So when you threw the ring in his face and stormed out, he was furious.

_”Do not walk away from me, Y/N,” Baron ordered, his face red, fists shaking at his sides._

_You spun on your heel, stopping Baron in his tracks. “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Baron,” you snarled, skin flushed as rage boiled your blood. “We’re done. Don’t follow me, don’t come looking for me, don’t even think about me.”_

_“If you think I’m going to let you walk away from me, you’ve got another thing coming,” he threatened, voice dark and dangerous, his hand wrapping around your elbow._

_Rearing your arm back, you turned, and punched him in the chin. “What’d I fucking say?” You walked away without regret._

You’d be lying if you said you weren’t scared every now and again. Baron had connections, had his fingers in a lot of people’s businesses, he could find you pretty damn easily. You had managed to lay low for the last year; renting an apartment under an alias, working for cash or off the books when possible.

And then you met Steve. He was everything that Baron Zemo was not; confident, tattooed, kind, generous, made sure you were satisfied, worked hard for his money, his livelihood. Steve wasn’t your stereotypical bad boy, he was insanely smart, so much smarter than he gave himself credit for.

With your cigarette stubbed out and disposed of, you ducked into your apartment and made a cup of coffee. All that thinking about Baron made your mind swirl, brought up fear and anxiety you had worked so hard to stomp down, get a handle on. You refused to live the rest of your life looking over your shoulder, but there you were, doing just that.

Part of the reason for your anxiety, for the onslaught of memories, was that Steve wanted you to fill out a job application, including references. Without a second thought, you put down Baron’s father’s name as a reference. Vastly different than his son, Old Man Zemo was a good-hearted man, and he had called you shortly after you left, saying how proud of you he was, that if he had ever been blessed with a daughter, he would have liked her to be just like you.

Then there was that pesky W-2.You had no doubt that when the form was submitted, Baron would know where you were, and he would come looking for you. Despite the hot coffee, you shivered at the thought. The last thing you wanted to was lay eyes on him one more time.

A hand on your shoulder made you jump, almost spilling the coffee down your chest.

“Jesus,” you grumbled, your heart racing in your chest.

Steve dropped to his knees. “Sorry,” he lamented. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”

You blew out a shuddering breath with your eyes closed. “It’s… it’s okay. I’m just tired,” you semi-lied, hating the way it tasted on your tongue.

“And Clint says I’m a shitty liar,” he chuckled, his hands on yours.

Cringing, you apologized. “Just have a lot on my mind,” you admitted softly. “I’ll be fine.”

“You sure?” Steve asked, genuine concern thick on his tongue.

You leaned into the hand he placed on your face. “I’m sure.”

“Good,” he said with a wink. “Now, come back to bed.”

* * *

Thanks to an ad that had run in the paper, it was another busy night at The Cock; people eating and drinking outside, busy. Had been every night that week, not giving Steve any time to check on Y/N’s references, or file the tax forms.

“Can’t believe she’s able to keep up,” Bucky roared over the raucous crowd.

Steve quickly found her wading through the crowd, full tray raised over her head, wearing a giant smile that made her eyes shine. “She’s definitely holding her own,” he agreed. He kept an eye on her for another second before turning back to the tap beer he was pouring into a chilled mug.

“You get her on the books yet?”

Groaning loudly, Steve shook his head. “Been a little busy.”

Bucky clapped his friend on the back. “Trust me, we know,” he declared with a wink.

“Shut up,” Steve murmured.

“In all seriousness,” Bucky started, shoving beer-damp dollar bills into his back pocket. “She’s good for you, brother.”

Y/N caught his eye again. This time she was looking straight at him as she flirted with a customer, her back arched, putting her full breasts on display as she leaned over the table, her fingers drifting over the patron’s hand, painted nails glinting in the light. A wave of jealousy crashed into him, followed quickly by an electric spark at the base of his spine. God, he wanted to drag her into the office and fuck her senseless.

Steve shifted, hoping that his hardening cock wasn’t visible. “Gonna sound weird, but I feel better when I’m with her.”

“I get it,” Bucky chuckled. “You’ve never been the one night stand kind of guy, and there’s nothing wrong with that, no matter how much shit I give ya.”

“Thanks?” Steve asked sardonically, crossing his arms as he leaned back.

Bucky turned to face his friend. “It’s a good thing, Steve, trust me.”

“Hey, boys,” Y/N greeted joyously. “What’cha doin’?”

“Talking about you,” Bucky answered honestly.

“All good things,” Steve added, bending over the bar to kiss her. Y/N grabbed the back of his neck and held him there, lengthening the kiss by almost a minute. Steve was hard as a rock, his cock throbbing painfully against his zipper when he was released.

“I need four house specials, one extra dry martini with no olives, and your favorite…,”

“Strawberry daiquiri,” Steve groaned.

She kissed the corner of his mouth and whispered, “Two more hours, baby.”

“Not sure I can wait that long,” Steve argued.

* * *

Two hours and fifteen minutes later, you were straddling Steve’s thighs, your knees driving into the couch and between the cushions every time Steve pulled you down, his hands on your shoulder and hip, his cock dragging against your walls deliciously, that vein throbbing against one of your sweet spots. The room was filled with the sound of your pussy being filled repeatedly, the slick sounds of your body trying to keep him in, relishing in the way he stretched you, filling you completely. You never wanted it to end, not knowing where he ended and you began.

His mouth was on your breast, biting and sucking marks into your shining skin. “Christ, baby… I… I need you to cum,” he groaned, voice utterly wrecked.

You gasped when his cock twitched, when his teeth sank into your skin, completely covering your areola, just shy of breaking the surface. That extra bit of pain was just what you needed to let go. Your back arched to the point that you wouldn’t be surprised to find yourself bent in half. Anchoring yourself to him, you hung onto Steve’s shoulders and swore crudely as you came, your pussy clamping onto his swelling cock.

Steve’s whole body trembled as he came, shuddering grunts blowing hot down the valley of your breasts, blunt nails digging into your skin, tips pushing deep into the muscles. You collapsed onto his chest, cheek on his shoulder, and tried to focus on your breathing. The way his cock was still twitching drove sparks through you, dancing along your spine, up the back of your neck, making you shudder and gasp.

Reaching up, you scraped your nails through his thick beard and pulled him down, kissing him slow and lazy, sighing happily into his mouth. You could see it happening from a mile away, the way your heart did a double beat in your chest, how your stomach flipped and tumbled, the bliss that filled you, made you feel so incredibly wanted and needed; you were falling in love with him, and fast.


	4. Brewing Darkness

Steve couldn’t sleep, not when she was lying there, wrapped in his arms, their legs tangled together, her hair fanned out on the pillow, her lips parted, breathing deep as she slept. She was absolutely stunning, and it made his heart stutter painfully in his chest. He was falling for with her, hard and fast, with reckless abandon.

Several months ago, he was wondering when he would meet  _her_ , the one that took his breath away, the one that was a hard ass with a heart of gold, that could stand toe-to-toe with him and not back down. Then two and a half weeks ago, Y/N walked into his life, and that was it. He knew straight away that she was different from all the rest, that she would change his life. He just didn’t realize how fast it would happen.

Outside, the clouds were starting to change colors. Rather than shades of grey and obsidian, pinks and purples swirled through, spilling through the blinds and onto Y/N. He couldn’t keep from kissing her, whisper-soft at first, causing her to stir, to shift deliciously against him, her flushed skin sticking to his for a split second. Steve bent down and pressed his lips to hers, slanting them just right to catch her bottom lip between his teeth.

With sleep thick on her voice, Y/N moaned as she woke. She raised her leg and hooked it on his hip, rocking against him, the damp lips of her pussy sliding against his hardening cock. They laid there, moaning obscenely, hands wandering, tongues dancing, hips rolling, their bodies threatening to explode.

Unable to take it any longer, Steve rolled away and quickly slid on a condom before settling between Y/N’s legs once more. With his hand around the base, he locked eyes with Y/N, and pressed into her velvet heat, not stopping until he could go no further. Something flashed in her eyes and she was about to give voice to it, but for some reason, he didn’t want to hear it just then, so he silenced her, pushed his tongue into her mouth, and started moving.

It wasn’t like any other time before, that was straight up lust and fucking. This time… it was yearning and passion, unhurried and resplendent, sensuous and pure, untainted bliss. It was as if all time stopped, as if nothing else mattered, just Steve and Y/N. If he had the power to make what he was feeling last until the end of time, he would, no questions asked.

She was shuddering beneath him, legs wrapped tight around his waist, heels digging into his ass, moaning his name, begging him to never stop, that she was gonna cum, that she needed him to cum with her. Steve’s shoulders were bowed and he was watching as he sank into her again and again, the shine of her slick colored by the rising sun… he was just about there.

With her eyes rolling back into her head, Y/N shattered beneath him, her walls quivering and pulsing intensely around him. Burying his face in her neck, he let go, his beard burning her skin as he grunted and puffed, his lungs aching for oxygen they couldn’t get.

As their bodies relaxed, recovering from what they just went through, Steve kissed her, slow and lazy. His mind tried to find its way through the fog, wrap itself around what his heart was screaming, pounding heavily in his chest.

Looking deep into her y/c eyes, he couldn’t deny it further. “I love you,” he revealed, voice thick.

Y/N cupped his face in her hands, whispering, “I love you, too.”

* * *

Needing to finally get Y/N ‘on the books,’ Steve went to the bar early. He backdated some paperwork, making sure the bar wouldn’t be at fault should anything happen. It wasn’t like he was trying to stick it to her or anything, they had discussed this, the process, what needed to be done, who needed to be contacted.

She seemed to get a little uneasy when it came to her references. There was only one listed, a man by the name of Heinrich Zemo. After all the paperwork was completed and filed, Steve picked up the phone and dialed Heinrich’s number. It rang three times before someone answered.

“Zemo Industries, how may I direct your call?” asked a chipper young woman.

“Yes, I would like to speak with Heinrich Zemo, please.”

“Just a moment.” Jazz music played for several seconds while the call was patched through.

Almost thirty seconds later, someone answered. “This is Baron Zemo, I hear you’d like to speak with my father.”

Steve thought nothing of someone other than Heinrich answering the phone. “I’m Steve Rogers, I own a bar in Brooklyn, and Heinrich was listed as a reference for Y/N Y/L/N. If he’s unavailable, are you able to answer some questions?”

“Absolutely,” Baron answered quickly. “I knew her… personally.”

“Really? How personally, if you don’t mind me asking?” Steve’s stomach tightened with unease.

Baron was silent for a stretch, to the point that Steve thought the call got disconnected, but then Baron cleared his throat. “Y/N is what my father referred to as a ladder climber, doing anything it took to get from the bottom to the top; including sleeping her way into my heart.”

Forget his rolling stomach, Steve’s heart dropped from his chest. “What are you saying?”

“We were engaged, Mr. Rogers,” Baron admitted. “And then, out of nowhere, she gave back the ring, and left town with a large amount of our money.”

“I just… I don’t understand,” Steve murmured, mouth dry, tongue thick, panic rising in his chest.

“Oh, no,” Baron lamented. “You’ve fallen for her, haven’t you? You haven’t done anything foolish, such as proposing, have you?”

“No,” Steve answered. “I was… I was planning on it.”

Baron sighed heavily. “I am truly sorry.”

His stomach rolled and the admission of love from yesterday morning was sour on his tongue. “It’s… it’s not your fault. I do appreciate your honesty.”

“One more thing, if I may?” Baron took the silence as permission. “Could you please tell her to contact her aunt? Her name is Pepper. She’s been worried sick about Y/N, hasn’t talked to her since the break-up.”

Steve knew that name, but he needed to hear a last name before he flew off the handle. “Sure thing. Do you have her last name?”

“Potts,” he answered. “Her name is Pepper Potts.”

* * *

Fifteen minutes before the start of your shift, you walked into the bar to find Steve. He was sitting on a stool with an open bottle of whiskey, holding a glass that looked like it had just been filled. There was a shift in the air around you as the door clicked shut behind you.

“Steve,” you breathed. “Is everything alright?”

He didn’t move a muscle, just sat there, staring at the glass between his hands. “I know everything, Y/N,” he uttered.

“What do you mean?” You wanted to walk across the room and look at him, but your feet wouldn’t move.

He turned then, and the way he looked at you, like you were this wicked thing, it was like a physical blow, you felt it deep in your gut. “I called Zemo, and he was… very helpful, to say the least.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” And you didn’t. Heinrich loved you, had said so when you broke up with his son, said if you ever needed anything, ‘you know where to find me.’

“Don’t,” he ordered, his voice darker than ever. “Don’t lie to me, Y/N. Not now.”

“I’m not,” you insisted. “What are you talking about?”

Rolling his eyes, Steve pushed away from the bar, the drink forgotten. “Spoke with Baron,” he sneered, lip curled. “He told me  _all_  about you.”

“Baron?” you scoffed, crossing your arms defensively. “Steve, you can’t listen-”

“Said his old man called you a ladder climber,” Steve snarled, looking at you from head to toe, nothing but disgust aflame in his eyes. “Said you slept your way into his heart, got him to propose… and then you left!”

You were shaking your head. “No, that’s not-”

He didn’t let you finish. “As if that wasn’t enough of a fucking wake-up call, I find out your aunt is Pepper Potts,” Steve hollered, his face turning red. “The wife of the man that is trying to drive every bar in this God forsaken town out of business.”

“What does that have to do with-”

“Pepper and Tony, what have you told them?” Steve seethed, his chest heaving.

“No- nothing, I swear.”

“You went sneaking around behind my back, didn’t you, found something and handed it over to them? Don’t. Fucking. Lie. To. Me,” he ordered, much louder than before, the bass of it echoing in your head.

Tears filled your eyes, blurring the man you loved. “No. I wouldn’t-“

Steve roared loud, the intensity of it making you wince and cover your ears. He drew his arm back and punched the door, shattering the glass, sending it to the floor. You looked at him, fear coursing through you, making you literally shake in your boots. Shards of glass were buried in his knuckles and blood was spilling onto the floor, but he didn’t pay it any mind.

“Get out,” he sneered, his shoulders shaking. When you didn’t move, he repeated his request by screaming it at you.

With tears streaming down your face, you hauled ass out of the bar.


	5. Anti-Hero

You ran home, pushing through the crowds of people, ignoring their shouts of irritation, demanding you watch where you’re going. Once at your apartment, you threw the locks and, with your back pressed to the door, you slid down, landing hard on your ass. That was when you let go, stopped choking back the sobs that threatened to tear you apart from the inside. You fell to the floor and curled in on yourself, knees tucked under your chin, hair in your face, not caring if anyone heard you.

It was dark when you sat up and pushed yourself off the floor. Every inch of you ached from spending the last… six hours on the floor, sobbing yourself to sleep. After noticing the lack of notifications on your phone, you shoved it into your back pocket, and trudged into the kitchen. The light from the fridge was blinding, so you screwed your eyes shut, and grabbed a bottle of water, emptying it in three greedy swallows. It felt like heaven on your raw throat, soothing the burn. After popping three extra strength tension headache pills into your mouth, you filled the bottle, and emptied it once again.

Even though your throat was rough, felt like you gargled glass, felt like you had a vinegar chaser, you went onto the fire escape and lit up a cigarette. The first drag felt as if the smoke was crystallized, grabbing the ragged tissue, and pulling on it as the smoke went into your lungs. It was a good kind of pain, though, the kind that forced you to go through and relive what happened with Steve without growing emotional.

It still hurt like hell, remembering what he had said, how angry he was, how he looked at you with such betrayal, as if you were the last person he ever wanted to see. As much as it did hurt, you couldn’t really blame him since you hadn’t been completely honest with him by telling him about your past, including the hostile relationship you and Baron had once had.

Baron.

“Fuck it,” you snarled, all but ripping the phone from your pocket. You didn’t need to look up his number, you had dialed it enough to know it by heart, and you don’t know how, but you just knew that he never had it changed.

It rang only one time.

“I was wondering when you would call,” Baron greeted, his tone cocky, smarmy.

“The fuck is wrong with you?” you demanded.

Baron laughed, and you could see it in your mind; his head tossed back and his eyes glinting darkly. “What did you expect? I warned you, Y/N.”

“So what, you ruin my life, again?”

He was still laughing. “How is it my fault? I told you not to walk away from me.”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes so hard it felt like someone stabbed you in the temples, but that didn’t stop you. “You cheated on me, Baron. More times than I care to know about! We were over long before I left.”

“Oh, Y/N,” he said in that condescending and uppity tone that he always got when he was talking to you. “You think I wanted to cheat on you? I slept with those women because you were too busy doing God knows what with my father.”

You didn’t have to be a genius to know exactly what he was implying. “I did  _not_  sleep with your father.”

Baron continued as if you hadn’t said anything. “You’re a ladder climber, Y/N, and you don’t care how you get to the top, even if it meant fucking my father, and breaking my heart.”

“You have to  _have_  a heart in order for someone to break it,” you scoffed loudly.

After clearing his throat, you could hear him take a long drink, and you knew it wasn’t water. It was vodka, neat, the extra strong kind from his father’s home country “But I’ve decided to forgive you, and I’m willing to take you back.”

“I’m not coming back to you, Baron,” you said calmly, despite the way your heart was pounding.

“Fuck you, you little slut,” he snapped. “If you think you can get away with this -.” You disconnected the call before he could finish his threat.

With shaking hands, you finished the cigarette and quickly lit another. You’d thought Baron was mad when you broke off the engagement, but that was nothing compared to how furious he had been when you’d gone to his father and told him what his son had done, what he’d said. That was an anger unparalleled during the course of your relationship. And then you had to go and stir the pot by calling him tonight.

Opening your phone one more time, you pulled up a contact you hadn’t needed to use in a while.

“Y/N,” Heinrich greeted warmly.

Your response was a choking sob of his name, followed by, “I need your help.”

“What has happened, my dear child?”

* * *

Hours later, after a trip to the emergency room, Steve was back at The Cock. He could feel the weight of Bucky’s gaze as if it were this physical thing, this heavy weight on his shoulders, in the back of his head. Steve worked hard to ignore it, to focus on the sharp pain in his knuckles, but it wasn’t working, so he grabbed a bottle of the oldest whiskey they had, and drank straight from the bottle.

“Did you give her a chance to explain?” Bucky asked as he crossed the room and stood behind the bar.

Steve scoffed. “Explain what, Buck? She used me, slept with me to get information.”

“Told to you by a man that Y/N left,” Bucky pointed out.

“Whose side are you on, anyway?” Steve demanded, his eyes drilling into Bucky’s.

With his eyebrow arched and arms crossed, Bucky held the gaze of his friend. “Right now? Y/N’s side.”

“Fuckin’ thought you were  _my_  friend.”

Bucky waited until Steve finished the long pull of whiskey. “I am your friend, Steve. Don’t you fuckin’ dare say that shit to me. I’ve always been there for you. But that shit,” Bucky pointed to the shattered door that had a piece of cardboard taped to it. “That ain’t you, brother.”

“What part of she used me are you not understanding?”

“Did you call Heinrich?” Bucky questioned, his voice still oddly calm.

Another long pull of whiskey, and then Steve waved his injured hand angrily. “That’s how this shit happened.”

“After that shit,” Bucky growled.

Steve rolled his eyes when he answered. “Why the fuck would I?”

“Jesus Christ, Steve,” Bucky hissed, a hand scraping over his face. “To find out the truth, that’s why.”

“Already know the truth,” he rasped, his throat burning from the booze.

Bucky grabbed the bottle and ripped it away from Steve. “No, you fuckin’ don’t, you stubborn asshole.”

“The fuck is wrong with you?” Steve spat as he pushed away from the bar.

“You’re such a dolt,” Bucky murmured. “Heinrich called, Steve. He told me what really happened between his son and Y/N.”

“I don’t need to listen to this,” Steve argued as he turned to leave.

Bucky ran around the bar and slid to a stop in front of Steve, blocking his exit. “Baron treated her like shit; always talking down to her, sleeping around, mentally and verbally abusing her. Steve… she left him because he’s a womanizing prick, not because she was in it for the money and grew bored.”

Steve shook his head. “No… that’s not… that’s not what Baron said.”

“Heinrich helped her leave, gave her some cash to start a new life, start fresh. How bad does someone have to be for their own father to help their ex leave? Come on, Steve. Don’t do this. Don’t stand there and act like you would rather live without her.”

Screwing his eyes shut, Steve scraped a hand over his face. “It’s too late, Buck. I said things -”

“That you can spend the rest of your life apologizing for. Now, I don’t want to hear another word outta you. Go.”

Swallowing the knot in his throat, Steve bolted from the bar, and hailed a cab.


	6. Boxer's Revenge

Steve was standing there, hands on both sides of the door. “Open the door,” he pleaded.

“Go away, Steve,” Y/N demanded, her voice low and cracked.

“Please,” he breathed, emotion creeping into his voice. “I didn’t… I shouldn’t have said what I did. I should have listened to you.”

“Yeah,” she agreed with a dark scoff. “You should’a.”

His head lolled forward as he muttered. “I’m such an idiot.”

Y/N agreed again, her voice thicker than before. “I need… I need you to leave, Steve.”

“No,” Steve argued. Standing tall, his hands slid down the wall. “I’m not going anywhere. Not until you open the door.”

“Go away, or I’ll call the cops,” was her weak threat.

He might not have known her very long, but he knew she was lying. “You won’t call the cops, Y/N.” The silence was deafening, and just when Steve thought he had lost completely lost her, the door opened a couple of inches.

“There,” she announced coolly. “Door’s open.” Her eyes were red, puffy, and bloodshot, her nose was stuffed, and she was clutching a tissue in her hand. She looked completely broken and he hated himself.

“What I did, how I handled things, how I acted… it’s completely unforgivable,” he gasped, completely taken aback at the wave of raw emotion that roared through him. He wanted to hold her close and never let go.

She glanced down at Steve’s stitched and bandaged hand. “You scared me,” she admitted tremulously.

“I know.” His vision blurred as tears stung his eyes. “I shouldn’t… I never meant…,” he sputtered, his tongue fumbling with the speech he had envisioned himself saying. “I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

When the door closed in his face, he thought for sure his knees were going to buckle. But then a moment later, it opened. She was wrapping her arms around his neck, pushing up to her toes, and she was kissing him fiercely. Steve picked her up by her thighs, and strolled into her apartment, kicking the door closed behind him.

There were shoes and clothes strewn across Y/N’s bedroom in a matter of minutes, neither of them wanting to be apart any longer than they physically had to be. Having driven Y/N over the edge two times - once with his mouth, the next with his fingers - Steve rolled on a condom, settled between her thighs and entered her easily.

“Shit,” he gasped, his shoulders shaking. He was never going to get used to the way she felt, how her walls stretched and fluttered around him, how it felt as if her body was made just for him.

Y/N rocked beneath him, tipping her hips so he sank deeper than he’d ever been. How he managed not to cum just from that, he had no idea. With their foreheads together, they worked in tandem, rocking together, rising where one fell, falling where the other rose. It was a song only the two of them knew, and their bodies were the instruments. They hit the crescendo and were left whimpering and writhing, doing their damndest to hit just one more note, make it last that much longer.

With Y/N in his arms, her cheek on his heart, and his hand skimming along her goose-pimpled skin, they drifted off to sleep. It was the best night sleep either of them had ever had.

* * *

You were in the back room, grabbing a case of the beer Steve had just brewed when someone grabbed you from behind. A hand slapped over your mouth, which only made your adrenaline pump harder. The self-defense class you had taken after dumping Baron kicked in quickly. You bucked against your captor, putting every ounce of your strength into it.

“Hold still,” he ground out, his lips next to your ear. The sound of Baron’s voice drove a chill down your spine.

You bit down on his hand and stomped on his foot at the same time. While his grip loosened, he didn’t completely let go. Even though it was going to hurt like hell, you reared your head back, slamming it into his nose. Baron screamed in pain as his hands flew up to his face. With your equilibrium out of whack and your head pounding like a jackhammer, you tore out of the room, down the hall, into the bar, and smack into Steve.

“Whoa,” he ground out, stumbling back at the impact. “Slow down, doll.”

Your chest was tight and tears were stinging your eyes. “Baron,” you panted. “He’s here.”

Baron stumbled into the room, blood streaming from his nose and unbridled rage aflame in his eyes. “You fucking bitch,” he snarled, thrusting a finger through the air.

With one arm around you, Steve spun you around and stepped in front of you. “You only get one chance,” he warned darkly. “Get out, or I’ll beat your ass.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Baron sneered, straightening his jacket.

Steve chuckled low in his throat. “Don’t make a bet your ass can’t cash.”

Before either one of you could blink, Baron was barrelling across the room, slamming his shoulder into Steve’s chest. You stumbled to the ground at the impact, barely pulling your legs out of the way so Steve didn’t fall. Grunting low and heavy, Steve wrapped his arms around Baron’s waist and used Baron’s own momentum against him; throwing the man over his shoulder and stumbling into a row of stools.

“I warned you,” Steve snarled, hands balled into fists, ready to storm across the room.

Baron laughed as he stood on shaking legs. “You’re going to pay for that.” He all but leapt at Steve, screaming shrilly.

Steve shook his head and drew his arm back, timing it just right, so that when Baron’s feet were about to land, Steve’s fist would drive into his stomach. Baron’s eyes went wide, and the air left him in a loud  _OOF_. He fell to his ass, gasping for air his lungs couldn’t hold, arms around his stomach, feet scrambling on the floor, back arching off it.

You pushed yourself up and put yourself between the two men. With your hand on Steve’s chest, you shook your head. “I think he’s learned his lesson.”

There was a rasping groan behind you as Baron stood. “I’d say he has, Y/N. Now, come.”

Rolling your eyes, you spun on your heel and glared at your ex. “You’ve gotta be joking.”

“I’m not leaving without you,” he fumed.

Steve was literally shaking behind you. “Then the only way you’re leaving is in a goddamn body bag.”

Baron was laughing, that sick, twisted, insane laugh that always came right before he snapped. “I’d like to see you try.”

Without a word, Steve pushed you to the side and threw a punch that sent Baron’s back into the bar. If you hadn’t grabbed his wrist and begged him to stop, you know that Steve would have continued his assault and killed Baron. Steve’s eyes were on you, which meant he couldn’t see Baron. Using the bar for momentum, Baron pushed toward the two of you, but he never made it.

“What on earth are you doing?” barked Heinrich Zemo, authoritative voice echoing through the bar. You and Steve spun toward the new arrival, watching in disbelief as the words from Baron’s father stopped him dead in his tracks.

“F- father,” Baron sputtered. “Why… what are you doing here?”

Heinrich strolled over to you calmly, kissing your forehead, and taking the time to shake Steve’s hand before facing his son. “I was hoping I’d be here before you made a fool of yourself, but it appears I’m entirely too late for that.”

“I was defending myself,” he lied a little too emphatically.

“Son,” Heinrich said, hand held out in front of himself. “Don’t. You’ve dug yourself too deep this time.”

“What are you saying?” he asked.

“I’m saying that you’re out. Out of the family, out of the business, out of the will,” Heinrich explained. He had always warned his son, said that one day, if he kept acting like a spoiled little brat, that Baron would be cut off, but nobody ever believed the senior Zemo.

Baron rolled his eyes. “You can’t do that, father. You won’t.”

“The papers are being drafted up at this very moment,” Heinrich announced.

With a guttural moan, Baron lunged at his father with closed fists. Neither you or Steve could have imagined what happened next. Heinrich ducked out of the way and spun on his heel, jabbing his elbow into his son’s side, cracking two of his ribs.

Baron lay on the floor, writhing and moaning pitifully. Heinrich dropped down and peered at his son. “This is a fight you’re not going to win, Baron.” After clapping his son’s shoulder, Heinrich stood and walked over to you.

“I am sorry for all he has done to you both.”

You wrapped your arms around him, holding him tight. “Thank you for coming,” you breathed, exhaustion taking hold of you.

Heinrich kissed your crown. “I should have done something sooner,” he admitted. “If I had, you wouldn’t have gotten hurt, my darling.”

“It’s all in the past,” you assured him, pushing up to press a kiss to his whiskered cheek.

Crimson colored Heinrich’s cheeks as he released you. Turning to Steve, he held out his hand. “You’ve got a wonderful establishment here. What would you say to an investor?”

“You don’t have to,” Steve argued.

Heinrich laughed richly. “Boy, I never do anything because I have to. I want to help you, the man Y/N loves, succeed in any way I possibly can.”

Steve chuckled as he looked down at you. “I’d like that very much,” he answered, shaking Heinrich’s hand.


End file.
